… by J. R. Practix

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Counterintuitive (adj) counter to what intuition would lead one to expect

Spirituality and practicality meet together in a holy ground called common sense.

Common sense is the wisdom that is so obvious to each and every one of us, that as long as we’re not rebellious or being bratty, we can see the intuition and understand the next thing that needs to be done.

So what makes us become counterintuitive to common sense is either a lack of belief in spirituality or too much spirituality and not enough function in practicality.

Of course, there is the danger of being so practical that you don’t think anything can actually be spiritual.

We seem to be going through a phase. If I were trying to characterize the present of social thinking and parallel it to the years of our growing up time, I would say the whole world is acting like it’s sixteen years old. In other words, we all have permission to drive and put our lives in gear, but we don’t necessarily have the maturity to achieve it.

We need to come back to the better parts of ourselves and allow the spirituality that we believe in and the practicality we possess to mingle and become our new common sense.

It is certainly counterintuitive to think we’ll be able to make valuable decisions without having common sense.

And it is also counterintuitive to try to achieve common sense without a spiritual practicality.

There were many times that my dollar bills were scanned by clerks or tellers to make sure they were the real currency and not counterfeit. But only once did the clerk disappear and the manager return by her side and explain to me that the bill I had given them, which happened to be a hundred dollars, was fake.

Standing in line I realized that everyone behind me awaiting their opportunity to check out and leave, was suddenly staring at me as if I were a criminal trying to pass “bad paper.”

Realizing this, the manager was quick to explain so all could hear, that this was a common occurrence, and it did not reflect on my character whatsoever.

I was relieved until I realized that it did reflect on my solvency—because it was explained to me that the hundred dollar bill was no good, so they could not take it for my purchases, and unfortunately, I did not have another Benjamin Franklin sitting in my wallet waiting to be used. So not only did I lose a hundred dollars, but I also lost all the food and merchandise I had gathered—because of the fake money.

Counterfeiting is perhaps one of the most selfish crimes because it demands that other people collaborate with your sinister plan to make it work. They are the ones who have to carry your phony dough and pass it along—otherwise the jig just doesn’t work. I walked out of the store frustrated, angry, wanting to hit somebody for how they hit me in my finance and security.

That’s the trouble with counterfeit—eventually all things that are fake are exposed, and you’re left holding a bag of nothing.

Counterculture: (n) the culture and lifestyle of those people who reject or oppose the dominant values and behavior of society.

Take any thirty years.

Yes—look back in your history book and isolate off a thirty year period and you will realize that every group of people who was deemed to be “counterculture” was ignored for ten years, rejected for the next ten, but by the third decade had gained position, if not predominance.

It also holds true for our common values. Case in point:

Divorce used to be never spoken of—ignored, if you will. Then for a while it was rejected as unacceptable. And now, it’s not only a part of our society, but it is generally assumed that any human being over the age of thirty-five has divorced at least once.

An obvious example is the gay community, which was at first ignored, then heavily rejected, and now appears deeply rooted in the fabric of our culture.

Yet there are two outstanding exceptions to this theory—black people and women.

Our American citizens who happen to have black skin seem to have stalled somewhere between rejection and inclusion.

And women continue to be bandied about as sexual objects instead of living, breathing sisters in our fight for sanity.

’Tis perplexing. It certainly gives some food for thought.

For when I was a young man, the war in Vietnam was a symbol of courage and American will to fight communism. Enter the counterculture of anti-war. Now, the Indochina conflict is basically a very dark joke.

I, for one, am going to be very careful to reject to anything as counterculture—because even the faith I hold dear, which proudly meets in churches every Sunday, was once condemned to be a counterculture, secretly fellowshipping in the tombs.

Counterclockwise: (adj) in a direction opposite to that of the normal rotation of the hands of a clock

At the risk of admitting that I am the Duke of Doofus, I will tell you that if someone asks me to do something “counterclockwise,” I must stop, close my eyes, see a clock in my mind and reverse my path.

It’s one of those directions you often see on paper or hear given by an instructor which seems to be no problem whatsoever to some folks—and leaves me reeling.

I have the same sensation when I’m told to go east or west, north or south. If the sun is obviously in its morning or late afternoon position, I can occasionally pull it off but if it has snuck over my head, I am lost.

It reminds me of the time I was in the hospital, had just returned to my room after an operation and needed to go to the bathroom. I was supposed to keep my weight off my left leg, so I asked the nurse how I would be able to travel to the bathroom without injuring myself.

Her response was, “Can you hop?”

I froze.

I had not hopped since I was a small child and felt pretty certain that I would never be ‘hoppy’ again—or that if I tried, it would be a very “un-hoppy” ending.

Please forgive me for this. If you must have a laugh at my expense, just place it on my account. We will need such a running tab, for there will be more to come.

Counterattack: (n) an attack made as an offset or reply to another attack.

No one likes a brat. It must stop at ten years of age. Yes, no one who has lived over a decade is truly allowed to be a brat without being called out—or possibly executed.

Yet, in our stiff-necked, less-than-humble spirits, we try to sneak into our adult lives what we shall call bratisms. These are words, phrases, accusations, intimidations and even religious doctrines which allow us to be snotty in the name of some greater good.

It’s how we have come up with the term “taking the high road” when referring to a decision not to counterattack someone who chooses to insult us.

You see, taking the high road is a bratism—because if we choose not to do so, since it was the high road in the first place, we can claim that we just didn’t bring along our hiking boots. In other words, “we did our best, but when that son-of-a-bitch called us sons-of-bitches, well, he needed to be told that he’s a double son-of-a-bitch.”

And back and forth it goes.

The Jews and Palestinians have been fighting for thousands of years. Every once in a while, they have to find a new reason—a bratism. Otherwise they might have to consider why they are fussing in the first place and ponder the possibility of reconciliation.

We must create a bratism about men and women being at odds with each other. Otherwise, we might need to strike a deal concerning our mutual overall compatibility.

We need a bratism so we can call “them folks over there” third world, despots, dictators and evil. Otherwise, we’re going to have to concede that they apparently occupy part of the Earth, and short of a plague sent from the heavens, will be around for a while.

As we enter this season of politics, we once again hear people firing warning shots of attacks to be initiated.

These are followed by volleys and threats of counterattacks—done with just enough grown-up flair to escape being cursed as bratty.

Countenance: (n) appearance, especially the look or expression of the face

She swore she could tell.

She believed with all her heart that she could look at the countenance of another human being and tell you their whole story.

She claimed to see “auras”—colors within the cloud of confidence or deceit that surrounded the face of each person in front of her.

You see, I liked her, so I didn’t argue with her about it.

I also know for a fact that whether there’s a coloration involved or not, each one of us does exude from our countenance much more than we often realize.

Now, I will tell you, my friend who believed she saw colorations was usually much harder on people she didn’t like than people she did. I never discovered that she said any one of her enemies seemed to be ‘in the pink.’

But the light of the body is the eye—our eyes and faces reveal much of what is going on in our brain.

It doesn’t take us long to recognize when someone’s lying if we have the time just to study their expression.

It certainly does not require much effort to perceive when a brother or sister is struggling with depression or burdened with difficulty.

We probably don’t realize how many decisions we make about others based on their countenance—and I’m not talking about whether they are pretty or handsome.

No–it’s whether they have enough illumination from inside to light up their outside.

At one time—I believe it was September 17th, 1988—it was contended that the world was supposed to end.

Then there was the rumor, based on the Mayan Calendar, that time would cease on 12/12/2012.

Yesterday, while watching TV, I was informed by a young scholar that the Earth has thirteen years left before it turns on us and exterminates all humanity.

No matter how much we try to turn the conversation to possibilities, joy and the general good cheer of common labor, there are just too many people determined to participate in a countdown to destruction.

Religious people think Jesus is going to come back to judge the quick and the dead, establishing his kingdom on Earth.

Environmentalists proclaim that the oceans will rise, and the weather will become so unpredictable that finding a place to dwell in the dwindling landscape will turn us all into barbarians.

Other people have financial countdowns.

But for some reason we seem determined to destroy our home—or at least talk about its doom in great detail.

It’s why a great man once said that the end of the world is known only to God, and Him alone. God doesn’t get drunk and share it with someone else. It really is on the downlow.

Because as nasty as we can be, thinking we have many more years to live, we all could become insanely possessed with our own survival if we literally had a clock ticking toward oblivion.